Paint Me A Wish On A Velvet Sky
by Muzzy-Olorea
Summary: [MS] Set duringafter [S2 'The Bus.'] Samantha needed something more than just a drink. She needed someone to understand. She needed Martin.
1. Who Kicked A Hole In The Sky?

**Paint Me A Wish On A Velvet Sky**

**Set during/after S2 "The Bus." Samantha needed something more than just a drink. She needed someone to understand. She needed Martin. S/M**

**Chapter One: Who Kicked A Hole In The Sky So The Heavens Would Cry Over Me?**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Without A Trace or the F.B.I. I do however own my imagination, my Muse, my insanity, my fangirliness and my dreams.**_

**A/N:- So many plot ideas, not enough time to write them all. So I thought I'd open up a selection so I can write whatever I'm in the mood for. This fic is gonna be a fair few chapters long and there's potential for a sequel but we'll see how it goes.**

……… _I don't think what happened in London today has really sunk in yet. New York, Bali, Madrid, Istanbul and now my city. It was never a question of 'if', just a question of 'when.' My heart goes out to all those affected, which in a way is all of us. Life isn't fair or just …. it's just really meh sometimes._

Samantha walked into her apartment, dropped her keys on the coffee table and sat down dully on her settee. Frankly, she was still in shock from the double shooting and was trying to fathom why she had even been sent home. If she had not fired then either she or that Carroll guy would have been dead: It had been a clean shooting. Jack had said that he had believed her …….. before proceeding to send her home anyway.

She leant back on the settee, frustrated at the way Jack had treated her. Sure the shooting in the bookstore had given her problems with her leg but it hadn't messed with her head. Samantha rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to think clearly. For her, her work was practically her whole life …. no, who was she kidding – it _was_ her whole life: Being out there on the field, helping people, the thrill of the chase …………….. it's what she lived for. But since she had been shot it seemed like her whole life was unravelling.

After being back on the job for one day she was going to be stuck behind a desk for goodness knows how long whilst the OPR carried out their investigation. And she thought being bored out her mind at home recuperating from the hostage situation had been bad. An endless pile of paperwork would be even worse.

She knew she should stop stewing over it. What was done was done and she would just have to live with it. She looked around her apartment. It really needed a tidy – something which Samantha rarely had the energy for, ever since Barry Mashburn put a hole in her leg. Sure everyone at the office had offered to help her out: Danny had offered to do her shopping for her and Vivian had practically begged to be allowed to come round and clean and do her washing but she had refused all offers of help politely and after the third attempt to get her to agree had failed, they gave up, knowing how much Samantha prided herself on being independent.

They were like one big happy in that respect, and Samantha considered the people she worked with as the nearest thing to family she had. She was comfortable enough with each of them to point out their mistakes and voice her opinion without having to pause and consider their feelings first ………… well that wasn't exactly true. Her and Martin hadn't quite reached that happy place yet and she wasn't sure if it was just because he was new or whether there was something simmering underneath, but there was definitely some awkwardness between them and a slight barrier which only appeared when they were alone together, not discussing a case.

When she had been stuck at home recovering, Danny had visited her every other night, sharing every minute detail of his latest date or something funny he had seen on TV to cheer her up.

Jack had come at least once a week but only made a fleeting visit to check up on her. He was a good person and a good boss but things had never been the same - and would never be the same - since their affair had ended. Even outside of work they kept their relationship more professional than any normal friendship would be and when she had tried to thank him for trading himself for her during the hostage situation, he had interrupted and firmly told her he would have done the same thing for anyone of them. She was okay with the way things were with them. She always knew that although they had moved on, things would never be able to be truly normal between them.

Vivian had popped in every Friday evening armed with a piece of homemade cake and all of the week's newspapers and magazines. She would stay and have a coffee and the two women would chat about the week's cases and Vivian would narrate all the latest office gossip.

Martin had only visited her twice and she hadn't expected anything more since she hadn't known him for as long as she had known the others. The first time he brought some flowers and chocolate and they made some polite conversation on her doorstep before Martin left, hurrying to work. The second time, Jack had called to say that Martin was dropping some files over at her place to keep her involved in the cases. She had opened the door to find Martin standing there, files tucked under his arm, holding about eight carrier bags full of groceries in his hands. He hadn't offered to do the shopping or checked with her to see if she even needed anything – he had just gone out there and bought enough food to feed a family of four. She had tried to beg him to take it away but he had just walked in and started unpacking the bags in the kitchen without a word. If truth be told, she would have argued further if she wasn't so speechless at such a bold gesture, especially coming from Martin. She had thanked him hesitantly and they drank some soda on the sofa as he talked her through the files. They had then gone on to make awkward chit-chat about the weather and work before their conversation dried up and Samantha was secretly quite glad he had refused her offer of dinner. There was only so much two people could chat about with showing any sort of emotion to each other – and since both of them seemed reluctant to open up and relax with each other, it made the conversation very strained. So it was somewhat surprising that on his way out that night, Martin had given her a small, hesitant smile and told her to phone him if she ever needed anything, even if it was just someone to talk to.

Samantha sighed, drawing herself back to the present and cleared the two-week-old newspapers off the armchair and stood up to take them to the bin. It was only when she was walking to the kitchen that she noticed how much her injured leg was aching. Still, nothing that a hot bath and some bubble bath couldn't cure.

However, as she lay soaking up the warmth in the bath, her thoughts involuntarily returned to today's shooting. Had she really needed to fire? Couldn't she have talked her way out of it? They say that your first instinct was usually correct but what if the fact she had just been shot had clouded her judgement? Would the OPR investigation conclude that she had been too over eager to pull the trigger? A shiver went down her spine as doubt about the necessity of the shooting flooded her brain. What if she had just wanted to take out the frustration, that being shot had caused her, on someone? She took a deep breath, climbed out of the bath and put on some fresh clothes. She needed something to distract her from these thoughts that were eating her up. She grabbed her phone and was about to call Danny when she remembered him vaguely saying something about meeting up with his brother. She thought about Vivian but she wasn't that selfish to call her away from her family just because she was beating herself up over nothing. Martin. Maybe he would be free. Plus he would be able to tell her what he thought of the shooting since he was there. But her finger hesitated over the 'dial' button. It just seemed too ……. _desperate_. Besides he had probably made plans. She thought about the time he had asked her out for drinks after the 'Georgia Peach' case …….. he was a nice guy … maybe that had been why they had just distanced themselves subconsciously because they were afraid of what would happen if they did open up………….

Samantha grabbed her jacket and keys and decided to head back to the office. If Martin was there then maybe he wouldn't mind spending sometime with her, if not then she would just grab some paperwork and make a start on that.

……………………………………………………………

Her plan to block out the thoughts of the shooting by listening to music during the cab ride back to the Bureau had failed. No matter what she listened to, whether it was angry and loud or soothingly quiet all she could fixate on was the two bodies lying on the grass surrounded by the money that the wind had blown out from the bag. Two men whom she had killed. Justified or not, she had still ended two lives today. Sure it hadn't been the first time she had killed in this job, and it wasn't going to be the last, but having been shot herself it was like the magnitude of the act was multiplied a hundred times.

Samantha swiped in and passed through security and walked into the empty elevator, resting her head against the cold metal wall as she waited for it to reach the fourth floor. For the first time in her life she really felt like she was losing control of herself. Everything had happened so fast and it seemed like the whole of today had passed her by like she was stuck in a dream, watching her life from the outside.

The corridor, usually bustling during the day with smartly dressed Agents hurrying to and from cases, was practically empty now except from a couple of janitors and the few members on night shift. As she walked into the dimly lit office and saw it was deserted, she couldn't help feeling incredibly disappointed. She really needed to see a friendly face right now to offer her a few comforting words. Hell, she would even take seeing Jack, even if she was still mad at him for his lack of faith in her.

Sighing, she walked aimlessly over to her desk. Now she was here, she didn't think she could even find any work to do since either Martin or Danny had probably written the report for the case anyway.

"_Hey, what are you doing here?"_

Samantha turned round with a start. As FBI Agents they all prided themselves on being alert and on guard all the time but lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard anyone approaching. She watched as Martin slipped a file into the out tray. He must have stayed behind to finish the report on the shooting. Suddenly she wasn't sure what to say. To say she came all the way back to the office just to find someone to talk to sounded really lame and the fact that she wanted to talk specifically to him sounded even more needy. Besides admitting she wasn't all right was a new experience for Samantha and she hated feeling this feeble.

"_I forgot something."_ she said quickly. Even to her it didn't sounded remotely believable. Usually when she was down she was still able to keep up an act and create a façade but right now she felt her barriers crumbling.

Martin stood there waiting for her to elaborate and she shifted awkwardly.

"_The kids are all right?" _she asked changing the subject.

"_That's what Roger Daltry says." _Martin replied.

Samantha smiled weakly at Martin's reference to 'The Who'. He was trying to cheer her up and she appreciated the effort – she really did, but most of all she appreciated him just standing there in front of her now. _"Right. Yeah."_ she said acknowledging his comment. She forced another smile and shifted from foot to foot. This was awkward and she was only too aware of the distance she had put between them on other occasions. She was just too used to pushing people away so it was no surprise that when she actually needed someone to talk to she realised that, in truth, she didn't actually have anyone.

"_Get some sleep, will you?" _Martin said looking at her questioningly and she felt embarrassed. She knew he was surprised at seeing her so unsure of herself. She hesitantly met his gaze and knew her vulnerability was shining right through.

"_Yeah, I just got to ….. find the thing that I forgot ….. before …"_ Samantha said robotically.

"_Right."_

"_Yeah." _she knew that what she had mumbled had come out so incoherently and she felt stupid.

"_Okay."_ Martin said not convinced. She knew he didn't buy her excuses and they were now making one-word conversation because he was afraid to push her and ask her to tell him the truth but at the same time didn't want to leave her like this.

Samantha felt like the longer she stood there with him, the more foolish she would look. He was looking at her almost pleading with her to open up to him. Today just continued to get more and more surreal. The awkward silence was suffocating her and she knew that one more second looking at Martin and she would fall in a heap on the floor and breakdown. _"Goodnight."_ she said.

"_Goodnight." _he replied with a soft sigh. She was sending him away again. He hated leaving her like that but Samantha knew what she wanted and he reached down and picked up his case.

Samantha exhaled and turned back to her dark desk, feeling listless and lonely again. She had come to find Martin to talk to him but even she found that too hard. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to feel so self-conscious about opening up for once?

She heard him sling his backpack over his shoulder and walk towards the door and she suddenly turned round. _"Martin?"_ she called impulsively. She just couldn't let him walk away. She needed this. She didn't want to spend the evening alone again, especially not tonight.

As he turned around, she saw the startled look on his face and also noticed how tired he looked. The case had got to him too. As he started to walk back to her she took a few steps forward as well and tried not to feel so insecure. _"You know how you said we should get a drink sometime?" _she started. She really hoped he didn't have anywhere to go tonight. She knew Martin was the kind of guy she wanted to be with tonight. Danny would try and cheer her up and they would have a laugh but she got the impression that Martin would be more understanding. She knew there were times during cases when he really wanted to ask her something but was afraid of prying into her personal life knowing how much she hated talking about her past or sharing her emotions. He wanted to listen and she wanted to talk. Even now, looking at him, she got a flashback of a few hours previously … the way he looked at her after she had pulled the trigger in the park. Samantha felt a lump come up in her throat.

"_Yeah."_ he answered. If he was surprised at her asking him out for a drink then he did a good job at hiding it, just waiting for her to finish her sentence.

"_I could really use a drink." _she said weakly. Her grip on her emotions was loosened with the release of actually admitting she needed something. She knew Martin knew she was talking metaphorically. Of course she didn't need a _drink. _She just needed his company. He was looking at her with a warmth in his eyes and for the first time in her life she really just wanted to sit on the edge of the desk and burst into tears. She prayed he wouldn't ask her whether she was all right because at this moment she would have just lost the already feeble hold she had on herself.

As if he could read her thoughts he didn't mention how broken and helpless she looked but instead relaxed into his charming self. _"Well …… nothing worse than a beautiful woman drinking alone."_

Now Samantha realised why she had wanted Martin to be here tonight. He was such a gentleman and so sweet. She pressed her fingertips against the bridge of her nose buying her time to regain a hold on herself.

"_Yeah." _she whispered feeling herself calm down a bit.

Martin motioned with his head. _"Okay."_ she said softly, following him out the office.

Talking would be a new experience for her but it was better than sitting alone at home crying, leaving tearstains all over her paperwork.

**A/N:- I hope that wasn't really bad as a first chapter. I think the first chapters are always the hardest. Anyway, back to watching the news I guess. Shall be update-tastic as soon I return from my Paris trip and after HP6 ...**


	2. You Could Be My Railroad

**Chapter Two: You Could Be My Railroad**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Without A Trace or the F.B.I. I do however own my imagination, my Muse, my insanity, my fangirliness and my dreams.**_

**A/N:- Thanks to those who reviewed the first chapter. Moving away from canon, everything from now on is what I think SHOULD have happened in Season Two.**

_Dedicated to:_

_SusanWATfan, Jodiexx, Raspberry Muffin, Lu78, WithoutATraceFreak, Sweethoney89, NightMage _

_Higherbeingfriendsfan – I think I'm going to write this whole fic from Sam's POV as much as possible which is unusual for me because I usually swap POV throughout my fics._

_Csigirlie156 – SHOE BEATER ALERT! I'm afraid …. Very afraid …… and by posting this I beg your mercy. Most people in the centre of Paris should be able to speak French. I can speak French but it didn't help anyway because I was just ignored by the Frenchmen purely on the basis that they hate the English (stereotypically anyway …). Or maybe I just have a crap accent._

_Ariel3JLP – Hey there! The title's a lyric from an Oasis song and I thought it was very pretty ………… In case you hadn't noticed most of my fanfics have song lyrics included in the title and chapter titles because I am really unoriginal. Yeah, sometimes I see an episode and just have the urge to write the thoughts behind the words/expressions. I have a list of episodes still left to do but I don't want to start on them before I finish at least this or 'Come Back Down'._

_Jtsideout389 – Yes. Terrorists suck. Gathered you have probably heard about the new attempted attacks. It's a sad world we live in._

Sat in a quiet corner of the bar Samantha watched as Martin made his way back over to their table and put her drink down on the table in front of her.

"Thanks." she said with a small smile. He sat down silently and took a sip of his beer glancing at her. She looked down into her drink, staring at the clear liquid. On the way over here they had made idle conversation about the weather and how crowded the streets were and Martin hadn't pushed her to talk. She knew he was letting her do it in her own time but now she felt awkward and didn't know where to start.

"So, I guess I've got months of being stuck behind a desk to look forward to." she sighed.

"Don't get your hopes up." Martin said shaking his head slightly. "The OPR have no reason to do anything except clear you and you'll be back on the field in no time."

"If only that was true." Samantha sighed.

"Of course it's true." He paused. "You don't mean you're having doubts about the shooting yourself are you?" Martin asked a little surprised.

Samantha squinted and looked down at the table. "I just don't know anymore." she said softly.

"Sam." She didn't look up. "Sam." he said again. She looked up and met his gaze hesitantly. "You've got nothing to worry about okay? I was there, I saw it. You saved Carroll's life. If you didn't shoot then either him or you would be the ones dead."

Samantha looked at him. It was what she wanted to hear and she could see that he wasn't just saying that to make her feel better. She swirled the drink in her glass around. "Maybe. Doesn't mean OPR are going to see it like that though."

"Why not?"

"Martin, I shoot the two suspects that could have been the only ones who knew where a bus load of children were, the day after I come back from recovering from getting shot myself. What do you think it looks like?" Samantha replied edgily. Martin looked at her silently. There was an uneasy pause. She took a deep breath. "Sorry I shouldn't have snapped at you." she apologised. She let go of her glass and pressed her forehead with both of her hands. She hated feeling like this. She hated the way she was bringing Martin down with her. "I'm just not sure of anything anymore. Maybe I did go out on the job today with more will to shoot than before. Maybe I wasn't thinking 100 clearly when I pulled the trigger. Maybe we could have just talked ourselves out of the situation."

Martin reached over and rested his hand on top of hers giving it a comforting squeeze. Samantha looked at him shyly. "I don't believe a word of it." he said. "If this case had happened before you got shot, you would have done the same thing. If this case had come in two months down the line, you would have done the same thing. Do you know why? Because it was the right thing to do." Martin said forcefully. "If I was in your position I would have done the same thing." he added. "Whatever happens with OPR, I'll hold to that." He rubbed the top of her hand gently with his thumb and Samantha felt electricity run up her arm which she was sure wasn't intended. Martin seemed to feel it too and he withdrew his hand a little embarrassed.

Samantha ran a hand through her hair. She trusted Martin and she did feel more reassured about the shooting. She tried to relax a bit but there was something still bothering her.

"It's not just OPR I have to worry about though. Jack doesn't think I'm stable enough to have in the workplace." Martin raised his eyebrows. "He sent me home today although I told him I'm fine." she explained. There was silence.

"Are you really fine?" Martin asked quietly.

Samantha looked up at him, surprised by his question. He met her gaze steadily and she could tell that he wasn't joking with her. She looked away, unable to lie so blatantly when they both knew the truth but at the same time not wanting to have to admit it out loud. He saw right through her. Her life was unravelling and she didn't think anyone had noticed. Of course, she hadn't done a very good job of hiding it this evening. Her eyes stung and her stomach clenched but she had tried holding the tears back for too long and her eyes started to involuntarily go watery. "No, I'm not fine." she said so quietly that it was barely audible. Then she shuddered and buried her face in her hands, crying openly.

She felt Martin stand up and sit down next to her on the bench and she felt his arm go around her shoulder and he slowly pulled her closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry …. It's just everything ….. building up." she muttered through her tears. She realised how long it had been since she had just let go of herself like this. The shooting today was just enough to push her over the edge but she had needed to let go a long before today.

"Hey, take your time." Martin said soothingly rubbing her arm. "It's good to get it out."

She leant against him glad of the comfort and cried until she couldn't even remember what she was crying about anymore. She felt the tension ease with each tear and the stress of the past few months slowly drift away until she didn't have any tears to cry anymore.

Then embarrassment took over and she moved away from Martin, going pink as she looked at the wet patch she had made on Martin's shirt. She couldn't believe she had completely broken down on him. They weren't even that close. They didn't talk or socialise out of work and then the first time they spend time together she cried all over him. Even Danny had never seen her like this and she was much closer to him than Martin. "I'm so sorry." she said, blowing her nose. "I don't know what came over me. I ……"

"Sam," Martin said interrupting. "Crying's nothing to be ashamed of." he said quietly as if he could read her thoughts. "It's good to get it out. Everyone needs the release. I know how everything just builds up and then all of a sudden you just have no idea what to do anymore." Samantha wiped her eyes. "Better?" Martin asked looking at her caringly. She nodded. "Look, I know a small restaurant round the corner from here, why don't we grab something to eat?" Samantha nodded again and smiled her thanks. Martin seemed to understand as he smiled back and lead her out without another word.

…………………………………………………………..

Samantha hid a smile as she listened to Martin narrate an anecdote about the first time he ever went skiing. An hour ago she was at the lowest point in her life since she had joined the Bureau, but now she was relaxed and even able to enjoy her meal. She didn't know whether it had something to do with the fact that Samantha Spade had actually shown that she was human and that she needed someone or whether Martin was trying doubly hard to cheer her up but the awkwardness between them had gone. Martin hadn't mentioned the shooting or asked her what else was bothering her since they left the bar and instead they talked about nearly everything from favourite foods to sport. She had discovered much to her surprise that they actually had a lot in common: they liked the same music, teams, films, books and the conversation flowed. And the most amazing thing, considering the situation an hour ago, was that Martin managed to make her laugh. He had just a wry sense of humour – witty and sarcastic which she loved and she felt a connection there – Martin just _got_ her.

" ……… so I think I've got more reason to be embarrassed after telling you that than anything you've ever done in your life." Martin finished, putting down his knife and fork and leaning back in his chair.

"I doubt it." Samantha laughed. "Your escapade didn't include corn flour and nudity." she said pointedly.

Martin's grin grew larger. "C'mon you can't say something like that and not tell me about it."

"Oh I think I can." Samantha said. "I've got dinner." she said taking out her purse as the waiter approached.

"No, we'll split it." Martin argued.

"You bought the drinks."

"So?"

"So I owe it to you. And not just for the drinks." Samantha said as Martin opened his mouth to argue. "You really made me feel better tonight." she said meaningfully.

"Then you'll let me pay for dinner." he said, placing his credit card on the plate and handing it back to the waiter before she could snatch it off.

"You're really annoying." Samantha said, glaring at him.

Martin shrugged as he signed the bill. "I just think Agent Spade likes getting her own way a little too much."

"I don't." she insisted. "But you're going to let me make you a coffee back at my apartment. It's the least I can do."

"Is that an order?" Martin quipped.

"Yes." Samantha laughed, standing up. Her smile instantly faded though and she leant against the table heavily. Her leg was really stiff and she realised what with other things filling her mind, she had forgotten to rub cream on it this evening.

"You okay?" Martin asked, making his way round the table to her worriedly.

"Fine." Samantha said grimacing.

"Come on, lean on me." Martin said, putting his arm around her shoulders and helping her walk out the restaurant.

"I'm fine." she insisted, limping.

"It was an order." Martin said, looking down at her and helping her.

Samantha gave a soft laugh and shook her head. It wasn't weak to need someone. Today had taught her that much.

……………………………………….

"Sorry it's a bit messy." Samantha said as she pulled her key out and pushed the door open.

"I thought you said 'a bit.'" Martin laughed, walking in and taking his jacket off.

"Shut up." Samantha said elbowing him, going into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She couldn't hide the smile building up in her. Today really had been a day of two halves – It had started horrible but was ending incredible. She picked up the mugs and grabbed a box of chocolates, walking back into the lounge.

Martin had seated himself on the sofa and was flicking through one of Samantha's fashion magazines that she had left on the coffee table. That's how bored she had been being stuck at home – having read everything she owned from cover to cover she had resorted to buying cheap magazines to keep her amused for half an hour.

"I doubt you'll find any useful fashion tips in there for you." she said, putting down the cups.

"Well, you never know." Martin said, tossing it in the newspaper rack.

Samantha raised her eyebrows and sat down next to him. "Is there something you're not telling me Mr Fitzgerald?"

Martin leant against the arm of the sofa and stretched. "Yes. On the weekends I am actually Martina and am the honoury member of New York's own cross-dressing club." he said his tone low and his face the perfect picture of seriousness.

"You're joking right?" Samantha said looking at him.

His face broke into a grin. "What do you think?"

"With you, I'm not sure."

Martin looked mock-offended. "What's that meant to mean?"

Samantha shrugged and looked at him. "I haven't quite figured you out yet. How do I know you don't have crazy fantasies!"

"Even my fantasies aren't that crazy!" he said laughing, leaning forward and picking up the box of chocolates. "You know, there's only one way to eat After Eights." he announced, opening the box and taking out a thin square piece of mint chocolate and handing the box to Samantha. "Take one out and balance it on your nose."

Samantha looked at him as if he was mad. Martin did have only one drink at the bar right? "Oh you poor delusional child, did no one tell you that you eat with your mouth." she said, shaking her head with silent laughter.

"Haha. No, seriously, balance it on your nose." Martin said, doing as he said. "I learnt this at College. The object of the game is to try and get the chocolate off your nose, into your mouth and eat it without using your hands." he explained, looking up at the ceiling as the chocolate wobbled on his nose.

"You're being serious aren't you?" Samantha laughed.

"Totally."

Samantha relented and followed suit. How come she had never seen this fun wacky side of Martin before? Was he always like this out of work? She didn't know. Right now she was having trouble getting the chocolate to even balance on her nose, not to mention getting it into her mouth. After several tries she gave up and watched as Martin found success after only three attempts.

"See, it's not that hard." he said triumphantly.

"How long have you been practising that?" Samantha said, laughing.

"Come on, it's not that hard." Martin insisted taking a fresh chocolate out of the box and tilting Samantha's head back with his free hand. He got the After Eight to balance on the tip of her nose and watched with amusement as Samantha opened her mouth, stuck her tongue out and gently lowered her head a few millimetres making the chocolate slip down and fall. She expertly jerked her neck to the side and managed to catch it on the end of the tongue. Martin clapped and cheered. "See, now you've learnt a new party trick." he grinned.

Samantha laughed and took a sip of her coffee. "Are you always so random?" she asked.

"If you can't be random and have a laugh, then life gets very dull."

Samantha nodded, agreeing with his philosophy. She leant back on the settee and drank her coffee, enjoying the comfortable silence between them. As a result of the shooting, her relationship with Martin had certainly taken a turn for the better. Generally a very tense person, Samantha didn't think she could ever feel relaxed with someone, especially after such a hectic day but here she was enjoying every minute of it.

"What are you thinking about?" Martin asked, looking her, a little anxiously.

Samantha smiled. Usually she would hate being fussed over or having people worry about her but with Martin it was kinda sweet and nice to know he cared. "Just thinking how much you've cheered me up this evening."

"That's what I'm here for." he replied, resting a hand gently on her leg. She flinched slightly. "Your leg still aching?" he asked softly. She nodded. He ran his hand over the wound on her thigh and began to massage it gently. Samantha's uncomfortability increased. She didn't want to feel like this, especially not with Martin but ….. Dammit why couldn't she have been shot in the arm! Nibbling on her bottom lip, she looked across at Martin but he seemed unaware that he was doing anything except helping an injured friend.

After what seemed like an excruciatingly long time to Samantha, he removed his hand and looked up, giving a small chuckle.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"You've got chocolate on your nose." he said scooting closer and rubbed her nose gently.

A shiver ran down her spine. He was close, invading her personal space and she involuntarily bristled. Martin must have noticed and he removed his hand but instead of moving away he just looked at her hard, searching her eyes. Samantha didn't know why but she felt strangely comforted when she looked into his eyes, there was something very reassuring about them which made it very easy for her to lose herself. She was dimly aware of Martin's head moving closer by about a quarter of a millimetre – or maybe she imagined it, she didn't know, but the next minute the shrill ring of her cell phone broke the peace.

Martin moved back to his end of the sofa silently. Slightly dazed, Samantha unfastened her phone from her belt and tried to moisten her dry mouth.

"Hello?"

"_Sam, it's Jack."_

"Oh, hi." Samantha said, a little surprised that he was calling. Then it dawned why. True enough, he didn't beat about the bush.

"_I'm just checking up on you."_

"Well, I'm still taking my medicine for my leg and apart from the occasional ache, it's fine." she said, deliberating misinterpreting his meaning.

There was a pause. _"I'm not going to apologise for sending you home today but I know you weren't exactly happy about my decision and, well, how are you coping with the shooting?"_

Samantha looked across at Martin, he was crouched forward, leaning on his knees, his hand clasped together, staring at the carpet, waiting for her to finish her phone call. "Fine."

"_Really?"_

"Yeah. Absolutely fine. Well I am now." she paused. "Jack, you didn't need to send me home but I understand why you did. Everything's fine and I'm ready to answer all the shit OPR will throw at me or whatever."

"_Positive?"_

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_Okay, get some rest. Bye."_

Samantha flipped her phone closed.

Martin stood up. "I've really got to be off." he said without looking at her. "Early start tomorrow."

Samantha could detect a certain amount of awkwardness in his voice obviously regarding the moment earlier. She didn't say anything for a minute but stood up. "Martin?" she said softly. He looked at her hesitantly. "Thanks for tonight." she said. Then she did something very un-Samantha like and leant forward and hugged him, she felt his arms fold over her back and she rested her head on his shoulder. "You really made me feel better."

"I'm always here." Martin said, his voice slightly muffled by her hair.

They pulled away and shared a look of understanding. "Goodnight."

**A/N:- Good, bad or ugly? And I'm talking about the chapter here!**


	3. My Soul Is Painted Like The Wings

**Chapter Three: My Soul Is Painted Like The Wings Of Butterflies**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Without A Trace or the F.B.I. I do however own my imagination, my Muse, my insanity, my fangirliness and my dreams.**_

**A/N:- Thanks for the fantastic response so far.**

_Dedicated to:_

_Berta101, Raspberry Muffin, Missusmesser, Ninergrl, L'ilmissnitpick, Bdoney, Tracy, Isabell89, Biajones, Lu78, EquestrianBabe, SusanWATfan_

_Ariel3JLP – You've got nothing to be jealous about. If my fanfics were half as good as yours, I would be happy._

_Without A Trace Freak – Yeah, you should try the chocolate thing. My friend got me doing the same thing but with Party Rings the other day but I was too impatient and just kept eating them instead……………… Hmmmm, what about After Eights and Party Rings together? Interesting …………………._

_Csigirlie156 – Lock that shoe up I tell you, it's a dangerous weapon. I think Spanish is a more useful language to know since statistically more people speak Spanish than French. Or you could just master the International Code Of Arm Gestures. Hehe._

She was so angry, she was beyond angry. In fact she had been so angry on hearing what Jack had just told her that Samantha Spade was actually speechless for a full two minutes before starting a verbal onslaught on her boss that, if it were under any other circumstances, would certainly have seen her seriously reprimanded.

She had tried to cool off by pacing up and down on the balcony for a bit but it hadn't helped much and as she walked into the practically deserted office she felt that if there was a stapler or hole punch lying anywhere near, she would have loved nothing better than to have thrown it right through the glass into Malone's office.

"Well, I'm guessing by the look on your face Jack didn't want to see you about a pay rise." came a familiar voice from the conference table.

Samantha didn't say anything but flopped down on her chair. Martin walked over and sat on the edge of her desk. "What's the matter? OPR cleared you."

Samantha swallowed. "You'd look like this if your boss had just told you that you need therapy." she said at last.

Martin stared at her for a moment. "You're kidding?"

"I wish I was." she sighed, moving some files off her desk.

"You don't need therapy." Martin stated. Samantha looked at him, surprised. After last night, she had half expected him to agree with Jack on this matter. "What? You don't."

Samantha looked away. "Well, whether I need it or not, I have to see this 'Dr Harris' until further notice." she said bitterly. "Work's not really going great this week." she muttered, burying her head in her hands.

"Come on, let's head down to a bar." Martin said, getting off the table and rubbing her back, stirring her. "Alcohol cures everything."

Samantha forced a smile and let Martin lead her out the office.

"You know, I think there might be someone special in Mr Taylor's life." Martin started as they walked down the corridor.

"Really?" Samantha said. She knew what Martin was doing. He was trying to get her to focus on something else, take her mind off thinking of 101 ways to take revenge on Jack. Shame really, she was on 75 already.

"Yeah, he won't stop smiling nowadays."

"He could just be happy because of the good weather." Samantha mused. She caught Martin's eye and they burst out laughing. "Yep, there must be a girl involved." she relented. Just as she was about to mention some possible names, a voice called her from down the corridor.

"Agent Spade?"

Both her and Martin turned. A middle-aged lady with brown hair was walking towards them. "I'm Dr. Harris." she said introducing herself.

"Great." Samantha muttered, not even bothering to lower her voice.

Dr Harris ignored her. "Agent Malone wants our sessions together to commence as soon as possible so how does tomorrow morning at 7 for an hour before work sound?"

"It sounds tempting but I'm busy." Samantha said stubbornly.

"Busy doing what?"

"Busy getting on with life rather than having people interfering with it." Samantha said stonily.

Dr Harris just blinked at her. "Agent Malone said you would be like this."

"Yeah, well, more fool you to have bothered wasting your time then." Samantha replied bitchily, turning to go.

"I'm just doing my job and if you want to do your job too then I'll be seeing you at seven tomorrow." Dr Harris calmly, giving Martin a glance before retreating.

Samantha let out the breath she had been holding angrily. "Well, looks like my mornings are going to be starting a whole lot earlier from now on." she sighed. "Sorry Martin, but I'm going to have to pass on that drink if I want to have any chance of getting up in time for my lovely appointment tomorrow."

Martin shrugged. "No problem. Next time, yeah?"

Samantha smiled. "Yeah, next time. Right now I'm off home to punch some pillows." she said as they got into the elevator.

……………………………………………………

Samantha sat down in the most comfortable chair in the room and watched as Dr Harris settled herself in the one opposite and proceeded to fix her eyes on her as if she was some kind of specimen in a science experiment.

"So, how are you feeling today Samantha?" she asked.

"Murderous." Samantha said stoically. "And it's Agent Spade."

To her credit, Dr Harris didn't blanche. She was obviously used to dealing with difficult people.

"Were you feeling in the same sort of mood two days ago?"

"No. If I was then OPR obviously wouldn't have cleared me for those shootings, would they?"

Dr Harris didn't answer. "Agent Spade, you obviously don't think you shouldn't be here. Why do you think Agent Malone wants you here?"

"He got the date wrong and this is obviously some kind of April Fool's." Samantha replied, crossing her legs.

"You're not laughing."

"I don't think it's funny."

There was a pause.

"So, the shootings yesterday, how are you feeling about them?" Dr Harris asked, looking down at her notes.

"Rich if I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that." Samantha said. Dr Harris smiled weakly. Samantha wasn't smiling. "And sick and tired of having to talk about it."

"And your leg? How's that?"

"Well unfortunately I managed to get here today with no problem." Samantha said, her voice taking on a bored tone.

"Right, that's ….. good. So back to everyone's favourite subject. The shooting yesterday, want to tell me what happened?"

"Martin and I were tailing Carroll. He met these two men in a park to give them money. They had guns, Martin and I closed in. One of the men raised his gun and pointed it at me, I shot him and then proceeded to do the same again to the other man who was about to fire at me. If you want to know more, you can read Martin's report."

Dr Harris gave a little shake of her head to show that she wasn't actually interested in the details themselves. "Who's Martin?"

"Agent Fitzgerald. I was walking out of the office with him yesterday. We're on the same team."

"And what's your relationship with him like?"

"We're work colleagues and friends." Samantha stated. This conversation was jumping all over the place and now she was wondering what it was all leading to. Maybe it was a psychologist's technique to get their patient to let their guard down. It wasn't working on her.

Dr Harris stared at her. "Is that friends-friends or friends with benefits?"

If Samantha were not so intent on not showing any emotion other than hatred and anger, she would have burst out laughing. She leant back in her chair. "I'm sorry, I've never really understood that phrase 'friends with benefits'?" she said with mock-naivety.

"Are you sleeping together?" Dr Harris asked straightforwardly.

"That's really none of your business. None of my life is your business." Samantha said defiantly.

"Agent Spade, whilst you're obviously very intelligent and knowledgeable about your field of work, I don't think you really understand the concept of therapy. We need to talk about your life, your past and your relationships."

Samantha sighed. She was getting tired and she itched to be out of the room. "No, Martin and I aren't sleeping together." she said.

"You socialise a lot out of work?"

"Not until recently." Samantha said without telling her how recently. Her eyes came to rest on the clock. Dr Harris followed her gaze.

"Okay Agent Spade, I think we're done for today."

Samantha stood up and left without a word.

…………………………………..

"How was it?" Danny asked as Vivian and Martin also looked up from their work.

"The biggest waste of an hour of my life." Samantha grumbled, running a hand through her hair, walking past them and out onto the balcony.

Danny, Martin and Vivian exchanged a look and Martin stood up wordlessly and followed Samantha out.

Samantha didn't say anything for awhile and they just stood there in silence, leaning on the railings, staring over Manhattan. "Therapists are the spawn of Satan and Dr Harris has to be the worst of them all. I can see that my life is going to be hell for as long as I have to see her."

"What did you talk about?"

"Three guesses ….. but it wasn't just about the shooting …. it's like she wants to know absolutely everything about me and it's unnerving."

There was a pause as if Martin was turning something over in his mind. "What about if you tell Dr Harris what she wants to hear?"

"What and let her win?" Samantha said astounded. Martin gave a little smile and she knew he was acknowledging the fact that he knew of her stubborn nature. As far as she was concerned she didn't need a therapist and she most certainly wasn't going to narrate her past to anyone, her private life was private and she wasn't going to share it with a stranger, least of all Dr Harris, just because Jack said she had to.

"It won't be letting her win. Think about it: Jack's going to make you see her until she can confirm that you are, in fact, mentally stable, and the only way she's going to clear you is if you feed her what she wants to hear." Martin explained. "The sooner you open up to Dr Harris, the sooner you'll see the back of her."

Samantha nodded slightly. What Martin was saying made perfect sense: The longer she kept up the defiant act, the longer she wasted time repelling Harris, the longer she would have to endure the sessions. Besides, if she kept up the attitude it wouldn't be long until Dr Harris got pissed off and made some diagnosis up about her state of mind just for the hell of it. Samantha barely noticed the breeze blowing through her hair as she considered her plan of action. It would mean answering Dr Harris' questions truthfully and if she wanted to know about her past then she would have to tell her everything coolly and calmly. Ouch. Samantha felt a slight feeling of fear take hold. She had never related her past to anyone and for good reason too. She had put it all behind her, buried it all at the very back of her mind, ignoring it, moving on. And now she was expected to dig it all up. God she hated Jack. Samantha tried to reason with herself. Surely she would just be able to relate it unfeelingly to Dr Harris as if she was removed from her history – Dr Harris wouldn't judge her, tell anyone else and once it was out it all could be forgotten again …………………….. But it wasn't that simple, was it?

Samantha bit her lip and dropped her gaze to her hands. She knew that even if she did want to play the sharing game with Dr Harris, her mouth probably wouldn't cooperate. She would sit in the room during her next appointment and either she would automatically go into defiant-with-attitude mode or she would sit there in silence for the whole hour.

"Sam?" Martin's soft voice broke her out of her thoughts. He touched her arm softly and she looked up at him. His heart lurched at the haunting veil across her face.

Samantha saw the worry in his eyes and she felt her eyes start to well up. She bit down harder on her bottom lip until she was sure she must be making it bleed. For God's sake why did she feel like crying now? Her tear ducts must have wondered what the hell was happening to them. Why was it that he didn't even do anything and yet all her barriers seemed to melt away when she was with Martin? Was it because that every time he asked her if she was alright, his voice was so full of genuine concern and he seemed to honestly care more than anyone she had ever met before? Technically, they hardly knew each other before yesterday but yesterday had shown Samantha that they had an inexplicable connection and she felt oddly at ease with Martin – as if they had been close their whole life. Maybe they were meant to be friends. Dammit she wouldn't cry in front of him again.

As if reading her thoughts Martin didn't push her and let her take control of herself.

She took a deep breath. "It's just not that easy." she said at last. "Maybe that's one of my issues but I have a hard time opening up to anyone …." she paused. "I guess you've noticed how I tend to push people away instead of letting them get close and I prefer to keep stuff to myself. And the thought of having to talk about my past and everything to a stranger ……" she trailed off. Would he understand or would he just think she was weird for keeping everything so closeted?

Unbeknownst to Samantha, what Martin said next would turn her life around forever.

"What about talking to a friend?"

Samantha swallowed and looked at him questioningly.

Martin gave her a small smile. "Maybe if you talk things through before, it'll make it easier just to repeat it to Dr Harris?" When Samantha didn't say anything, he continued hesitantly. "We had a good talk a couple days ago ……. whatever's happened in the past, you know I won't judge you and it might help get things off your chest?"

Samantha looked straight at him. He was being deadly serious. She didn't know what to say. A part of her was telling her that it was the right thing to do but the other part shied away from the thought of telling Martin some of her past exploits. He said he wouldn't judge her but how could he help do anything but that. After all, Samantha even judged herself for some of the things she had done.

"I ……" she hesitated. Martin was looking at her encouragingly. As much as she would hate to admit it, it really had been good to be able to unload some of her burdens that night at the bar. Someone had once said that friendship was like therapy for poor people and it wasn't until now when she was going through another rough patch in her life that she realised maybe doing the whole 'I can survive without needing anyone' act wasn't a good idea after all. In fact it was thoroughly crap idea.

She looked back at Martin. "Are you sure? I mean after a day of me at work the last thing you probably need is to hear a whole sorry sob story about my life …….."

Martin smiled. "I wouldn't offer if I had any problem with it. So you up for it?"

Samantha nodded. "Yeah, I think I am." She said with a smile.


	4. It's My Life And It's Now Or Never

**Chapter Four: It's My Life and It's Now Or Never**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Without A Trace or the F.B.I. I do however own my imagination, my Muse, my insanity, my fangirliness and my dreams.**_

**A/N:- Sorry for the lack of updates. I've just started University up in Edinburgh so everything's been a bit Aaargh with the packing and getting ready. Now I'm here, writing is my anti-stress, anti-homesick, anti-freaking-out-with-fear drug! These couple of chapter may be more informative than exciting but expect more Martin/Sam-ness later. And let the talking begin ………………………**

_Dedicated to:_

_Berta101, Tea, Without A Trace Freak, Sammisgirl_

_Outrageous Band Geek – Roast beef is sexy? Really? Interesting._

_Biajones – That's okay. ) Queen rules!_

_Isabell89 – I'm a very sarcastic person myself. And that's not me being sarcastic!_

_Lu78 – There's a good justifiable answer to your question. But I don't know what it is! Maybe that if all men were like Martin, chocolate retailers would go bankrupt._

_Bicoco – Hey there! _

"So ……." Samantha started and then trailed off giving a nervous laugh as she moved from the dining table to the sofa. Martin smiled and put down a bottle of wine and two clean glasses on the coffee table. Samantha looked at them. "So your plan is that if I don't talk, you'll get me drunk first?"

Martin grinned and relaxed on the settee. "It's a last resort."

Samantha smiled and with a look of resolution, she turned to face him and placed her hands in her lap. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"What do you want to tell me?" Martin replied.

Samantha shrugged. "I guess I should start at the beginning, right?"

"Either that or you start with the story about the flour and the nudity." Martin suggested, trying to hide his cheeky grin with not much success.

Samantha laughed. She loved the relaxed atmosphere that Martin seemed to bring with him at all times - it made a nice change from her tense, highly-strung way of life. "Okay, right, well, I grew up in Wisconsin with my Mom and Dad and my older sister Julia. My Mom isn't exactly the world's most maternal person and for as long as I can remember, she always had a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a box of anti-depressants in the other but it was okay, we managed. My Dad looked after us, preparing dinner and putting it in the fridge. He worked two jobs and when he was at home, I was at school and when I was at home, he was out at work or asleep. I used to cherish Sundays which was the only day he had off and he used to spend it with Julia and I in the garden or doing family things – if it was one of my mother's 'better days' then she used to even sometimes join us. Either that or she would be locked in the back room with alcohol, pills and the television like every other day."

"You were a Daddy's girl?" Martin asked, not wanting to push the subject of her mother.

Samantha nodded. "It was a pretty lonely time. Dad was the only one who would play with me but he had to work most of the time. Julia and I got on all right - she looked after me when Dad was out, helping me with dinner and getting ready for bed but she didn't really have much time for me other than that. She's five years older so in her spare time she used to go out with her friends whilst I used to spend the time alone in my room. It was okay though, I can survive in my own company ……… but then one day Dad didn't come home from work ……" Here Samantha trailed off. She was getting to the difficult part. The part which she always tried to forget had happened. "I tried telling Mom that Dad was late home but she was just drunk and told me to get out of the room, Julia was staying over at her boyfriend's place so it was two days before we got the call saying that he had been killed in a car crash."

Samantha looked up at Martin for the first time since she had started talking. His eyes were full of sympathy and she was only aware that she was starting to cry again when he handed her a tissue and moved closer to give her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Things kinda went downhill from then on. A week hadn't passed since my Dad's funeral when Bob my Mom's 'drinking partner' moved in." Samantha shook her head slowly. "It was like my Mom didn't even care that her husband had just died. Instead she used the money from his insurance to buy even more drink and cigarettes. Julia took care of me and she used to talk about how she and Harry were going to run away and they were going to take me with them and we were going to have a better life without Mom. Those were probably days when Julia and I were the closest: I was at that stage when I was beginning to be able to look after myself and not be the annoying dependent little sister and I was more aware of what was going on."

Samantha gave a weak smile as she remembered some of the dreams she and Julia used to talk about.

"But you and Julia grew apart?" Martin asked, bringing her back to her story.

"Yeah. Eventually Bob seemed to get tired of sitting round with my mother getting drunk every day and turned his attention to us girls – and not in a good way."

Samantha stopped talking for a moment and furrowed her brows together as she struggled with the painful recollection. Martin seemed to understand as he moved his hand down to squeeze her hand comfortingly.

"He used to do stuff to Julia, forcing me to watch and if I screamed he would just chuck the nearest lamp or chair at me. Eventually Julia did run off but she didn't take me. Bob then started …. touching me. I used to spend every night screaming my head off but my Mom was either in a drunken stupor downstairs or she didn't care. This continued for months until Bob got arrested for some drug offence and then that left just Mom and I. The money was starting to run out and with the alcohol deprivation came the violence ……….. I tried to run away but she came after me and was so inexplicably angry that she wouldn't even let me out to go for school for days……. I had a part time job and Mom took all the money I got from that. I had to get out of there but it was hard." she paused. "I might not have been happy at home but it was the only life I knew and it was just scary to think of leaving it for good ……. and my Mom knew how I felt and she played on that." Samantha took a deep breath and leant back, resting her head on the top of the sofa.

"It couldn't have been easy." Martin said soothingly. "You've done really well for yourself Sam to get where you are today."

Samantha gave a weak smile. Once she had got started, it wasn't as hard as she had thought it would be to speak about, she just reeled it all off as if it was a story that had been building up inside her, asking to be let out. It wasn't easy but she could remove herself from it to some extent and she skipped over all the details before it became one long self-pitying monologue. That's one of the reasons why she had never told all this to anyone before - she didn't want people pitying her, she much preferred them to see her with her cold, distant – even bitchy – front that she put on. She sighed. She had said enough for one night and didn't really want to continue with her narration.

As if he could read her thoughts, Martin pulled the cork out of the chilled white wine and poured it out. "Shall we go out onto the balcony?" he said, motioning towards the French windows.

Samantha nodded and stood up. It had been a few days since Martin had made his offer of holding mock-therapy sessions before Samantha actually managed to work up the confidence to ask him to listen to her. She had suggested going back to her place one day after work but it turned out that Martin's idea had worked the best. And so it came to be that she was spending her Sunday evening out on his balcony overlooking Manhattan after he had laid on a splendid dinner over which they had done nothing except argue about sport teams. Now he was giving her the opportunity to unwind after the trauma of digging up the past …….. he had known it was better not to have done this straight after a day at work – she would already have been highly strung and tense, and now at least she was able to relax and lounge about at his place out of her work clothes. She half suspected that Martin knew her better than she knew herself.

She leant on the railings, watching the yellow cabs move like tiny ants below. She sipped her wine. French, probably quite expensive. A light breeze blew against her cheek and she closed her eyes letting thoughts of her father, mother and Bob fade away. She turned to look at Martin. He was standing next to her staring ahead almost pensively.

"So, you've heard about my childhood, what was yours like?" she asked, resting her arm on the railings.

"Not nearly as tumultuous as yours." Martin said, finishing the wine in his glass and pouring some more for himself and topping up her glass.

Samantha looked at him with a sudden itch of curiosity. He hadn't known much about her before this evening and she realised that she didn't know much about him either besides the fact he had one of the Bureau's most powerful men as his father.

"I guess your childhood must still have been difficult but in other ways." she mused.

Martin nodded slightly. "I had three older sisters but my father always wanted a son to fulfil all the ambitions he himself had failed to fulfil – and considering where he is now, I guess you could say I had a lot to live up to."

"So I'm guessing if things had gone to plan you wouldn't be here working for Missing Person's?"

"If I'd gone by his plan then I would probably be standing for senator in Washington right about now." Martin said grimly.

"Politics eh?"

"Yeah, hard to imagine isn't it?" Martin said with a laugh.

Samantha smiled. "Not really. You have the determination and the looks to do well in the political world."

"Thanks …. I think. But I'm happy doing this."

"You always wanted to be an FBI Agent?"

"Yeah, the thrill of the chase, the guns - every boy's dream …"

"So you didn't do it just to spite your father then?" Samantha questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"It could have been that as well." Martin smirked. "What about you?"

Samantha shrugged. "It was a way of getting out of the rut that my life was in ….. and to say you're an Agent is a pretty sure way to scare men off."

"Really? I've found that it only enhances my dating chances." Martin said off-handedly.

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Please tell me you haven't used the James Bond line on any poor delusional girls!" she exclaimed.

Martin laughed. "No, I'm not Danny. But I guess he has the last laugh since he's not the one sitting in front of the TV with a takeaway every Friday night."

Samantha smiled. Hearing his words reassured her that she wasn't the only one leading a boring life outside of work

"Although whilst I was at Quantico I did use the Agent-line to get into every club in West Virginia."

Samantha opened her mouth in mock shock. "I would never have expected it of you!"

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Martin said, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at her.

"And there's a lot you don't know about me." Samantha paused. "But I guess by the time Dr Harris releases me that will no longer be true."

"Yeah, the elusive Miss Spade will no longer be such a mystery." Martin smiled and turned back to face the Manhattan skyline, rubbing her back gently.

Samantha closed her eyes. This felt good. Just having Martin standing by her felt good. Deep down in the depths of her subconsciousness something began to grow.

……………………………………………….

Samantha rubbed her hands together and looked into the consultant room with a look of fierce determination on her face. She was going to do this – or at least try. She had promised Martin that much.

"Good morning." Dr Harris said, pleasantly as soon as Samantha opened the door.

"Is it?" Samantha questioned, sitting down. Dr Harris raised her eyebrows. "As far as I can tell, there's hardly anything good about it: It's pouring down with rain, the Bureau got bad press again which means we're going to get _the_ talk again and then, of course, I'm here sitting in this chair again." She stated, crossing her legs.

Dr Harris reflected on this outburst for a minute. "Agent Spade, do you always get this cross when you're forced to do something you don't like?"

"No."

"Really?"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Yes, really. There's a 101 things I don't like doing in this job and although I don't like doing them, I also don't let them bother me because I know that they need to be done. This isn't one of them."

"That's a matter of opinion Agent Spade." Dr Harris said, shuffling the papers in front of her. Samantha could see that her attitude was enough to grate on even the most patient person's nerves. "Agent Malone tells me that you had quite a tumultuous childhood, is that correct?"

"Nice to know that you and Jack have been having discussions about me in my absence." Samantha said, leaning back in her chair. Lisa didn't say anything. She sighed, best to get this over with. "Yes that would be correct."

"Want to tell me about it?" Dr Harris prompted.

"I guess, since what I want doesn't seem to come into it much." Samantha shot. Then she slowly brought her mind back to last night, trying to recall that feeling where she was able to just reel off her history with the minimal amount of feeling behind it. She looked out of the window at the pouring rain, imagining that she was in the room with Martin instead of Lisa and she slowly began to reel off her tale. Half an hour later and she had reached the point that she had got to yesterday with Martin.

"For someone who hates talking about their past, you're doing really well." Dr Harris said encouragingly. "See it's not that hard is it?"

Samantha eyed her coldly. "I'm sorry but you can't take any credit for that. It's only 'not hard' because I told Martin all of this last night."

Dr Harris looked at Samantha, mildly shocked. "So you do open up to people?"

"When I have to." She said simply.

"And why to Martin?"

"Why not?" Samantha challenged using the age old interviewing technique of answering a question with a question.

Lisa Harris shrugged. "I just didn't realise you two were that close."

"We aren't. I had to handcuff him to the chair and force him to listen to me." Samantha said, rolling her eyes, getting restless.

"Looks like I'm going to have to use the same technique with you unless you stop treating these sessions as some kind of horrific punishment." Dr Harris said seriously as if she were talking to a school child.

Samantha took a deep breath and leant forward. "Look, I won't deny that these sessions make me incredibly uncomfortable. I'm not used to people prying into my personal life and raking up all the bad things so it's going to take me some time to get used to it." She said quietly. "I'm sorry." She said bluntly.

Dr Harris nodded and Samantha almost flinched from the pity she saw in the other woman's eyes. "If it helps, carrying on talking to Martin as well as me."

"I will."

"Good." Lisa said, checking her watch. "Well, I'll let you get back to your desk before I have Jack complaining to me about taking up valuable time." She said with a faint smile.

Samantha didn't say anything else but walked out of there without a word. She stopped round the corner and leant against the wall. Things were going to be okay.

**A/N:- It's very hard to write when there's a Pantry Party going on outside your room. Apparently students don't sleep. Ever. **


End file.
